


He Thinks My Pitchfork's Sexy

by orphan_account



Category: Adam Levine (Musician), Blake Shelton (Musician), The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: M/M, Shevine, The Shevine Project, Tumblr Request Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4162371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake bets Adam he can't handle farm chores, but he finds out he's the one who can't handle seeing Adam playing country boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Thinks My Pitchfork's Sexy

**Author's Note:**

> Written to fulfill fic request "fic request—Blake calls Adam a city slicker that doesn’t know the definition of hard work. He dares Adam to comeout to Oklahoma and do farm chores with him for a week. Adam can’t stand to back down from a dare so he goes. Then when Blake sees Adam doing the farm work—plaid shirt, Wrangler jeans, sweaty and covered in dust—he can’t keep his hands off him." for The Shevine Project on tumblr (theshevineproject.tumblr.com)

The basketball hoop had become a popular deversion for the male members of The Voice crew, plus Carson, Blake and Adam. So much so that they were getting threatened by the producers to have it taken away, tired of the make up people and stage hands complaining about their stars having to be chased back to the set in a sweaty mess. It seemed like the best idea to enjoy it while they had it, which was what they doing on a spring morning two weeks before another season was about to wrap up. 

"Shit..." Blake hissed as he missed for what seemed like the thousandth time. Though tall, he wasn't gifted athletically. The only reason he never got his ass kicked in high school was because no one wanted to risk pissing off the biggest guy in the grade. Otherwise his teen years would've looked more like, well, Adam's. up

"Dammit, Blake!" The rock star groaned. "I don't know why I always pick you for my team!"

"Like you're that much better!"

Adam strutted around the makeshift court with the ball a bit before trying a shot. It bounced off the rim and nearly hit Carson in the head. That sent Blake into a big, booming laugh that earned him a middle finger from his even less athletically gifted friend. 

"Oh shut up, Big Country." He rolled his eyes and reached for his water bottle. "You can't get it in either." 

"You wanna come to my trailer and tell me how sure of that you are?" Blake leered at Adam, before reaching for his water bottle on the side lines. They'd been teasing each other, flirting almost, for several months now and he just loved to ramp it up. He wasn't sure what would happen if he was expected to back it up with action. Or if he knew and was just a little afraid to admit it. 

Adam rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Shut up. And while you're at it, you might want to go take a shower before you stink up the set. You're sweating like a pig."

"That's what men do when they work hard. They sweat." He shrugged, obviously not taking the comment seriously. "Though this is nothing compared to balin' hay and plowing fields. Now that is sweaty work. I bet even you'd break a sweat."

"I sweat," He shrugged. "Just not as much as you. But I work out every day, you know." 

Blake wrinkled his nose. "That still doesn't seem the same to me as doing real work and doing it hard. I think you'd find there's a huge difference too, if you ever tried it."

Adam paused as they walked towards the backdoor of the studio. "You're suggesting I can't work hard?"

"No. I'm saying you can't do farm work." An impish twinkle came into his eyes. "I'm willing to bet that you couldn't last a week back in Oklahoma doing actual farm work. 

"What do you want to bet?" The rock star's mouth tilted slightly upwards. 

He considered it carefully, studying the other man's face with narrowed eyes. There were so many things he wanted from Adam, but most of them would probably send him running for the hills and ruin their friendship. So he considered it a moment, then shrugged. "Name your price."

Adam grinned and rubbed his hands together. "You're insane, you know that? Whatever I want?" 

He shook his head. "If I win, you have to wear skinny jeans and a white t-shirt next season at at an episode of my choosing."

Blake made a face. He was personally against skinny jeans, but he was mostly looking forward to the city boy seeing what the real country life was like. They wouldn't be playing beer pong and riding four wheelers like they did on his previous visits to Tishimingo. Oh no, Adam was going to work his little tattooed ass off. 

And for some reason, Blake really loved the mental image that was coming to mind. 

"Alright," He held out his hand to Adam. "One week on the ranch. Doing real farm work. And if you can't handle it, you're going to do whatever I want." 

"Oh God, we're going to a NASCAR race." Adam groaned, then shook his hand. "Not that you're going to win. I think you're going to find out it's a big mistake to underestimate me, Blake."

Blake hoped Adam was wrong, mostly because an idea was already forming of the prize he wanted to claim from the other man's defeat. "Prove it."

****

That very afternoon the private jet carried the two singers to Tishimingo. They had five days to follow up on the bet, so Blake let Adam have the night off. They were getting in late, anyway, and they were both tired. Of course, they weren't tired enough to not stay up to midnight and kill a twelve pack of beer while recounting the events of that season. 

There was still a bit of jet lag, or perhaps a slight hangover, in Blake's system when he woke up the next morning at 4am. He knew he was going to be tired as hell today, but it was more than worth it to see Adam getting up before noon. His only regret was that there wasn't a rooster on his ranch. There were chickens, but only hens after an incident the previous summer where Blake had gotten spurred by the last rooster. When he'd died, Blake had had a beer and banned roosters from the ranch.

Blake watched the clock closely, waiting until five o' clock to creep into the guest room. He looked down at Adam, feeling a nagging fondness welling up inside of him. The rock star looked so soft and sweet with his face buried in his pillow, sound asleep. There was that same confusing mixture of love, lust, and the fear that letting either of those feelings show would mean destroying the friendship that meant so much to him. 

Then he swept the feelings aside. It was time to set his plan into motion and he did it with a huge smile on his face. When you didn't have a rooster, a pot and a wooden spoon worked just fine. He waited until the clock on the bedside table hit five-oh-one and began to pound the pot furiously.

"Mmmmph!!" Adam's eyes snapped open and he nearly fell out of bed. Arms and legs snapped out from under the comforter, reaching frantically around for the source of the noise. "What the FUCK?" 

He laughed at the sight of his friend panicking. "Time to get up, city boy. Chores are waiting."

The rock star dropped back down onto the pillow with a groan. "That is so not cool, Blake." 

"Hey, you could just admit now you can't handle real farm work." He shrugged nonchalantly. "And be glad I didn't send a rooster after your skinny ass. Now get up and let's get going. There's a lot to do. Since we don't have cows and chickens, we're heading next door to my buddy's place. He was more than happy to let you do the chores for him this morning."

Adam slitted his eyes. "You know how much I hate birds." 

"Wrong. I know how much you're afraid of birds." Blake snickered, then felt bad for making fun of his friend's fear. His expression softened and he shrugged. "Trust me, they're safe chickens. You just gather the eggs. I saved the coop cleaning and cow shit shoveling for tomorrow." 

"How magnaimous of you." 

He wasn't deterred in the least by the sarcasm practically dripping out of Adam's voice, shrugging his big shoulders. "Not really. I've got hay that needs to put up in the loft and a load of straw that has to go in the shed."

"Great." Adam sighed and closed his eyes briefly. "Alright...let's go."

"That would require getting out of bed." Blake took a step towards the door. "And putting some clothes on. Trust me, you don't want to be around chickens naked. They peck at dangly things."

Sitting up and yawning loudly into the back of his hand, the rock star looked up at his friend with a hint of mischief in his dark eyes. "Know that from experience, Shelton?"

"Sometimes you gotta pee when you're collecting eggs." He grinned and stepped out of the room, calling back to his friend as he shut the door behind him. "Now stop stalling and get dressed!"

Blake went downstairs, deciding to give Adam ten minutes before he went in with a bucket of water next. It had worked on him and his brother when they were kids. And seeing Adam soaking wet wouldn't be exactly hard on the eyes. Though it made him feel a bit funny to his stomach to think of his best friend all slippery, the white t-shirt clinging to him like a second skin.

His very male best friend.

He went through the motions of pouring coffee into two thermoses, though his mind was a million miles away. If Blake was being honest with himself, he wanted to go back upstairs anyway. It was scary, to think of taking the risk of ruining a great friendship, but his feelings were getting harder to ignore. At first he'd thought he could just be content with what they had, but more and more lately he wanted to push the boundries of what he had with Adam.

Or, better yet, push Adam himself up against a wall. 

"Blake?" 

When he heard Adam's voice, Blake jumped and nearly let out a scream. He wheeled around to find his friend staring at him, looking confused. For a moment he was afraid the rock star had read his mind, seen into his dirty thoughts. Then he realized how stupid that sounded. 

"Just getting coffee." He held up the two thermoses. "You're going to need this to stay awake through chores."

Adam nodded slightly. "And what about you?"

"Me?" Blake chuckled as he lead them out of the house. "I'm going to walk you through it, but you're going to do the actual work. I didn't make the bet."

Whatever Adam commented back to him, it would've been bleeped if they'd been on national television. It distinctly rhymed with 'duck', which made Blake crack up. He knew he didn't mean it, that was just how they were. It was nice being able to talk shit to each other and still know someone had your back.

Of course, that bond and warmth Blake felt for his rock star best friend didn't stop him from giving the dude a hard time. The first thing on the docket was milking cows. He lead Adam into the low barn, the smell of hay and beast clinging to the air. Glancing over, he saw the smaller man wrinkle his nose. 

"Eau de cow shit." He explained helpfully.

There was already a cow in the cross ties, ready to milk. Blake convineately left out the fact that the farm had the milking machines, in favor of letting his friend truly experience farm chores. He bent his lanky frame down to settle on the stool beside the black and white heifer, demonstrating to Adam how to squeeze her teats. 

"See? Now it's your turn."

Adam hesitated only half a second before he took Blake's place on the stool. He laid his small, nimble hands on the teats and started pulling. For a moment Blake was so caught up in admiring his friend's hands that he didn't realize he was pulling the hell out of the cow's udder. 

"Adam..." 

He had barely spoken his friend's name before the big black and white head turned towards the rock star. The cow shoved Adam off the stool and skittered aside, snorting in indignince. Blake took one look at his shocked co-star with a big cow patty stain on the side of his white t-shirt and burst out laughing.

"That's not funny." Adam scowled, picking himself up slowly. "What the hell happened?"

"You squeezed her too hard." He shook his head, tsking lightly. "You'd think a rock star would know how to handle titties." 

"Blake Shelton, I swear to God if you start laughing again I'm going to throw this cow shit right in your face." 

He raised his hands, chuckling lightly despite the threat. "Won't be the first time. Besides, I'm sure you'll do better at gathering eggs."

Only Blake had greatly overestimated Adam's egg gathering abilities. The poor guy barely had three eggs in the basket before the rooster chased him off from the coop. Of course he laughed at his friends once again, and was rewarded with a hearty middle finger in his direction, followed up with the silent treatment almost all of the ride back to Blake's ranch.

"Oh come on...it was funny." He finally broke the silence. 

"Sure." Adam mumbled darkly. "Watching me get my ass kicked by a rooster was hilarious."

Blake snorted. "Dude, why do you think there's no roosters on the ranch? They're mean bastards. Besides, we're done with animals for the day. We're going to go on to putting that straw in the shed and putting hay bales in the loft. I'm sure at least one of those things you can get a handle on."

"You really think so, huh?" He glanced at his friend. "I would hate to lose the bet and find out what godawful torture you have in store for me."

Normally Blake would've laughed at that. He was fairly secure with himself and he didn't have trouble being the butt of the joke. Or laughing at his own shortcomings. But this time he couldn't bring himself to laugh. Not when he knew the shortlist of things he was trying to choose from when the best was lost and he got to claim his prize. And all of them were terrible things, at least coming from your very male best friend.

"Blake?" Adam turned to face him now. "You okay?"

He snapped out his reviere and forced a smile. "Yeah. I'm okay."

"Just checking." The rock star nodded and gave him a little smile in return. "Okay...let's go shovel some straw. That's better than shoveling shit, at least."

"I'll save that for day two." Blake grinned, feeling it come naturally once again. Adam just had that way of bringing out the happiness in him.

Once they got back to Blake's ranch, he had recovered his normal good humor. Adam's good mood, on the other hand, seemed to evaporate when he saw the pile of straw that been dumped next to the shed where it was kept. It loomed over the rock star's head easily fifteen feet high.

"What the hell do you do with so much straw?" He blinked, mouth dropping open in awe. 

Blake shrugged. "Horses. Chickens. I also use it to bed down the fields in the winter. It rots under the rain and snow, then the soil's all rich for the next year's crops."

Adam gave him an appraising look. "I never thought of a science part of the whole farmer thing." He turned thoughtful. "Though I guess it's a lot harder than it looks."

"Yup," He thrust a pitchfork into his friends' hands. "And you're about to find out how hard."

Hazel eyes rolled at him and the younger man turned his back to him, digging the pitchfork into the hay. "Yeah, well, I don't need a demonstration for this. It's pretty self explanatory."

"So you don't mind if I run up to the house and take a leak?" 

"Leak away," Adam replied without looking back at his friend. His eyes were forward, concentrating on pulling a forkful of straw out and transferring it into the shed. "I've got it. It's really not that hard." 

Blake smirked and shook his head a little. "Not at first. But look how much you have left to do..."

He turned away and heading for the house, laughing at the torrent of swear words he heard behind him. It was a mean thing to do, but Blake had a very solid reason he wanted to win the bet. He was too much of a coward to tell Adam on his own how he felt about him, what he wanted from him, especially when he was only just starting to understand it himself. If they had a chance for a moment, it would be different. Wouldn't it?

After the trip to the bathroom, Blake decided to throw some beers in a cooler and head back to the straw pile. He didn't rush, though. The sun was coming up good and strong now, it was getting hotter by the hour. It wouldn't be long before Adam was totally miserable. And then he'd win the bet.

Of course, Blake was going to make it up to him. He was sure the younger man would be sore after pitching straw. Maybe he could just offer a nice little back rub....

His mind was full of some truly filthy thoughts as he walked back out to the straw shed. He was at the part of his fantasy where he showed Adam what the meaning of a 'reach around' was, a fantasy he couldn't deny he'd had before, when he turned the corner to find his friend still hard at work.

Adam had flung off the flannel shirt that he'd borrowed from Blake that morning and he was shirtless now. A shiny film of sweat covered the rock star's upper body, making the black ink etched into his skin show up even more. It slipped down into the rivets between his built chest and perfect abs, accenting every muscle. And as Adam kept moving pitchforks full of straw, the muscles themselves seemed to ripple beneath the sweat slicked skin. 

Blake's throat suddenly felt dry as he stared at his friend. He hadn't thought of a moment when the man had looked more beautiful. And the rest of his body seemed all too aware of that too, judging by how tight his own jeans suddenly had become. He felt rooted to the spot, every nerve inside of him tense and wanting. 

After a few moments, Adam seemed to realize someone was staring at him. He turned and looked at Blake over his shoulder. Setting the pitchfork down, he cocked his head slightly. 

"You...alright?"

Suddenly Blake felt able to move again. He breached the distance between himself and Adam, wrapping his arms around the other man tightly and pulling him against his body. He didn't care that the other man was a sweaty, smelly mess or that he was going to get his teeth knocked out for what he was about to do. He was tired of denying the truth and hiding how he really felt.

His lips fell on Adam's passionately, unable to keep the kiss soft or light. He knew this would likely be the only one he ever got and he wanted it to count. Blake closed his eyes and focused his entire being on pouring years of unrequited love into the kiss. When he finally ran out of breath, he pulled back. 

"...does that mean I lost the bet?" Adam said in a dazed voice. 

"I..I don't know." Blake was afraid to look him in the eyes. He hadn't pulled away from him yet, a small blessing, but he couldn't will his hands to stop moving over the other man's torso. Now he really was going to get his ass kicked, but he had to feel every muscle, every ridge and memorize them with his fingertips.

Adam pressed his lips to Blake's without warning and the country star almost fell over in shock. For a moment he froze, then he was kissing him back with all he had. Long, slender arms wrapped around him and he let himself get totally lost. Everything else seemed to fade out as they kissed each other, almost frantic. 

When they'd moved back a few steps, Blake pushed Adam down into the straw and pinned him there with his body. His lips finally left the his lips to explore the rock star's neck. He was glad there were no tattoos there, the surface was perfect enough on its' own. And the little sounds his ministrations produced were making tingles shoot through him again, each seeming to end at his groin to simmer and burn there.

"Pokey." Adam complained. 

Blake shifted his weight off of his friend, blushing a little when he realized what he was probably poking with. 

The other man laughed in return. "Not that, idiot, the straw." 

"Oh," He chuckled, feeling like an idiot. "I thought you meant..." 

His voice trailed off as his hand moved downward, over Adam's taunt stomach and the front of his jeans. Blake wasn't the only one who was 'pokey', that was for damn sure. With a wicked little smirk on his face, he lowered the zipper and slid his hand inside of the other man's jeans. 

"Shit..." Adam hissed. "Blake.."

"Is this...is it okay?" Blake asked, rubbing his hand slowly up and down Adam's erection. 

"Fuck yes." His strangled reply was touched at the edges with pleasure. 

With a little smirk to his face, Blake concentrated on stroking his lover. His mouth returned to Adam's neck, kissing and nibbling. He was so caught up in the other man he didn't realize his own zipper had been lowered until he felt the calloused fingers stroking his own cock. The cry that came from him surprised even Blake himself.

He felt Adam's breath against his neck, reminding himself to keep his own hand going. Blake wanted to say so many things, but between the pleasure he was feeling himself and the little sounds of delight his friend was making, he decided talk could wait until they were less occupied. Soon the only noise to be heard in the shed were the sighs and moans of the two men.

"Blake...oh Blake..." Adam pleaded, his teeth sinking into Blake's shoulder. 

The painful sting of teeth was the last little thing that sent Blake over the edge. He came hard, letting out a strangled sound of pleasure as he released himself, spilling over Adam's hand. A moment later he felt the same wetness on his own hand. 

"Fuck," He panted, rolling off the smaller man and laying down on his back beside him. "You're right, the straw is pokey."

Adam laughed and reached over, rubbing his hand over Blake's arm. "How long?" 

Blake didn't have to ask what he was referring to, the answer rolling off of his tongue easily. "A long time. I don't know...the exact moment, but it's been awhile." 

"Me too." He whispered back, rolling onto his side to rest his head against Blake's shoulder. "But this wasn't exactly how I'd pictured it."

"How did you picture it?" Blake smirked nudging his chin up so Adam had to look at him.

Adam raised himself up and kissed Blake hungrily. "Why don't we go into the house and I can show you?"

Blake sat up and ran his hands over Adam's bare torso again. "Shower first. You've been working hard..." 

"Not nearly as hard as I'm going to work you." He winked and suddenly lifted off of Blake. 

He got to his feet and held out a hand to help Blake up as well. He fumbled with his zipper for a moment, then noticed Adam staring at him. "Hmm?" 

"I was just wondering something..."

"What?" Blake was concerned for a moment, then he saw the crinkles around Adam's eyes. The little laugh lines that the rock star always got when he was happy about something. 

"Well, I was wondering who won the bet?"

Now Blake was laughing too. "Honestly, I don't care."

"You don't?" Adam raised an eyebrow. "But didn't you have something planned if I lost?"

"Yeah." He grinned and reached for the other man's hand. "And we're going upstairs to do it right now. So I say...let's call this one a draw."


End file.
